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U Palways some more. Christ guaranteed it--I don't know why. The poor you have always with you. Like a marvelous legacy of God. His best possession in our hands. Undeserved, like the Eucharist. O send someone in from the gate where Dives sits on a dung heep in his sores, send even one of the dogs to whimper for us--would Lazarus of his heart's goodness let a dog lick up the crumbs from the floor, and carry even in a dog's mouth something for the damned.This is the truth about the world, our Lord said. Everthing comes right, all the deep wrongs of existence are turned inside out, the rich are stripped even of their shrouds, the poor men go in wedding garments. The first way to defeat Christianity is to strike Christian blind. Let the rich really think they have made it and can hang on to it all, and wheeler deal even with the angel of judgement named Christ, and (imagine) face him for the first time in death--when all of life is a great tragic Greek chorale sung by Christs in masks, sometimes faries, sometimes racked women. Sometimes a foul wino in a pismire sings it out like a bird of paradise remembering his last incarnation, but never, never looks up when Mr. Big goes by. The untranslated, unbearable unbearable cry, pure judgement, pure anger, pure rejection. Reality! Reality!O the poor will line up before the Judge with Torrid Eyes, a handful of daisies in His right hand, a sword in the other. They look gently toward His right side. They know. Come. They were the workers of corporal mercy. They are saved for having been, for being, for being others. They save even us. They carried fresh bread to stale lives. Come, beloved of my Father.Danial Berrigan round wonder
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